


Coffee, a Chat and Caramel

by ilybakura



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Coffee, Fluff, M/M, Tendershipping, an insane amount of fluffy fluff, coffee shop AU, cream puff - Freeform, grumpy!bakura, like wow look at him go, veryconfident!ryou, wingman!malik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:47:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27381427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilybakura/pseuds/ilybakura
Summary: “Your coffee’s good,” he finally said before Bakura could walk off. “My name’s Ryou, what’s yours?”And Bakura stopped long enough to look him in the eye. He never cared to do so with most customers, being always certain he wouldn’t have to deal with them again. He had never gone the extra mile to accommodate anyone, so no one complained, and no one complimented.---Tendershipping oneshot, coffee shop AU
Relationships: Bakura Ryou/Yami Bakura
Comments: 13
Kudos: 49





	Coffee, a Chat and Caramel

For Bakura it was easy to forget a new face and to dismiss those who frequented, but as of late there was one face who he couldn’t ignore.

A young man with white hair akin to his own came in often with a laptop case and a smile that made him question where in ra’s name did this boy work at that made him so happy? 

The first time they met had been so insignificant that Bakura had forgotten. Though after several visits from the other, Bakura first learned two things. 

His name was Ryou. And he had his coffee with an extra pump of caramel. At first Bakura felt revolted. He used to enjoy his drinks on the sweeter side, but after working in a cafe he had begun acquiring a more bitter sense of flavour. Not that it mattered, he wasn’t the one drinking it. So he made it without fuss.

Ryou liked to perch himself by the window with one newspaper that only elder folk bothered to pick up. Bakura observed him to be focusing on some sort of written work, as he was always clacking at that keyboard of his. 

What job did he have, then? Not that Bakura would ask. His clothes always looked immaculate, hair finely brushed over his shoulders. Though after what seemed like a while, it was the other that introduced himself. 

“Your coffee’s good,” he finally said before Bakura could walk off. “My name’s Ryou, what’s yours?”

And Bakura stopped long enough to look him in the eye. He never cared to do so with most customers, being always certain he wouldn’t have to deal with them again. He had never gone the extra mile to accommodate anyone, so no one complained, and no one complimented. 

He was smiling, and his eyes were brown. A rather boring colour. 

“Bakura.”

“How long have you worked here?” Ryou had asked, both hands lowering from his laptop for the first time since he arrived.

“Long enough,” Bakura said.

“Oh. You don’t like it?” 

Bakura had a feeling Ryou didn’t really care about his job, but he supposed he could humour him. 

“Why, do you want it?” He smirked, eliciting an immediate shake from Ryou’s head. 

“Heavens no, I don’t think I would do as well as you.” 

The flattery was almost too much. 

Bakura lifted his chin in the direction of Ryou’s laptop. “Then what is it you do?” 

When Ryou swiveled his laptop around, his hand ushering Bakura to come closer, he hadn’t expected to look forward to the next day as much as he did.

-OoO-

His daily chores began with restocking sleeves of cups and lids, straws, napkins; the works. The same thing day in, day out with the customers demanding the same things too. 

“Heat these up, will you?” One of his co-workers, a man with sandy ash hair pulled into a bun, asked. “For the lady.” 

A paper plate with a walnut brownie was thrusted into Bakura’s hands. It smelt strong with coco.

“Why couldn’t you do it,” he grumbled, holding the paper plate like it wasn’t within his paycheck to be touching. “You’re not doing anything.” 

Malik, the coworker in question, shrugged and started loading pre-sliced fruit into a blender. “Just do it, jerk.”

With a click of his tongue, he did as told. Many workers who crossed paths with Bakura often requested hours away from him because of his hostility, however Malik took it in stride. He was evidently just as prickly though often only when it came to Bakura’s attitude. Somehow they managed a civil way of working.

Bakura looked at the digital clock on his wrist for the upteenth time, annoyed that each second he checked, the longer it felt. If Ryou wasn’t going to show, then there would be another 6 hours, 42 minutes and 50 seconds left until closing. 

As the hum of the microwave went, the roar of the blender just as loud, Bakura caught a moment to watch the door open to a familiar customer. 

Something was different. 

This time that smiling face looked downcast. He avoided looking around, and his hands held no laptop. In fact, he wasn’t dressed for work. He wore a hoodie, not his usual blazer attire, and his pants were baggy for comfort rather than form fitted for business. All in all, Ryou looked miserable. 

Bakura held his hand frozen on the medium paper cup he usually served to him, watching as Ryou took his time to dwindle his way to the counter. 

“Hey,” Bakura finally said once he stepped up. “The usual?”

Ryou usually responded with a cheerful ‘yes please’ but this time, he merely nodded and pulled out his card to pay. 

It was awkward. Bakura felt the stiff air of silence engulf them, with only the drone of the cafe’s radio to muffle it. 

As Bakura lifted the paper cup, Ryou stopped him. “I’ll have it here.”

“Daring hm,” he remarked, letting the cup go so he could replace it with a ceramic mug. “What’s wrong with you today?”

Ryou looked far off, doing his best to smile. “Nothing’s wrong.”

But Bakura knew. Ryou looked far from nothing’s wrong. 

“Is it your day off?”

“Yeah,” Ryou replied as if that was the most obvious answer. “It is.” He rubbed the edges of his card in a nervous habit.

Bakura flickered his eyes from Ryou to the cup, nodding in mild disinterest, however he was concerned. 

Ryou paid in silence and retreated to the usual corner he worked at, hands deep in his pockets and sights upon the wood stains. 

For the first time, Bakura felt genuine worry. Worry for a customer, anyway. No one else who frequented the small business stayed on site like Ryou did. Many took their matters elsewhere, always busy and on the run. Unlike Ryou, he liked the quick hustle bustle and the conversations with the employees. 

Specifically Bakura.

Appearing as if he wasn’t staring, Bakura started preparing the hot coffee to Ryou’s liking; the milk had to be fluffy to the point that it should be a cappuccino rather than a latte and the caramel had to be stirred so it didn’t sit at the bottom of the cup. 

He began on the extraction, placing the mug under to catch the coffee drips. It whirred to life but Bakura didn’t wait to watch, he had to work on the milk. 

“Oi Bakura, did you give that brownie?” Malik said, semi loud over the roar of the coffee maker. 

“Don’t say oi to me, and no. That’s your job.” 

“Damn it,” Malik muttered in passing, rushing to the microwave, testing it’s heat before pulling it out and encasing it in a takeaway bag. “So sorry,” he apologised to the woman waiting nearby. 

The customer had her ear pressed against her phone, undeniably enthralled by her conversation enough that she casted a blind eye at Malik’s apology and went on her way.

Malik snorted a bit from his nose, turning around. At the notice of Ryou’s arrival, he eagerly clapped Bakura’s shoulder. 

“Look, your favourite is here!”

Bakura was glad the coffee machine was going otherwise he would have bashed Malik’s head in. “Shut up.”

“Something’s up, did you ask if he’s alright?” Malik, despite butting heads with Bakura, was friends enough with him that they talked after hours. He knew far more about Ryou than Ryou did of him. Not that the boy shared much, but Bakura remembered every detail. 

“Yeah, he said he was fine.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“No shit.”

“Don’t get cocky with me. Why don’t you talk to him about it?”

Bakura turned the steam wand off, his head snapping towards Malik quicker than he originally intended, his pony tail almost whipping him on the cheek.

“Are you insane? I can’t ask him, it’s none of my business.” Bakura shrugged Malik’s hand off, taking the extracted coffee with caramel by the base of the mug. Then he started pouring in the milk with a steady hand. It swirled in a tangent with the steam.

“Think of the customer, Bakura. It’s so obvious he’s here to see you, I think he’d like it if you asked.”

Bakura didn’t inquire what Malik could have meant by that. He made a partially formed heart with the milk, a standard by the company (not that he wanted to, of course). “I’m not asking shit,” Bakura repeated. “He said he was fine.”

Malik looked unconvinced. “Suit yourself. Well, I’ll be out back. Call if you need me.”

Bakura nodded his head and leisurely set up a pale blue saucer for the mug, ready to ignore Malik’s noseyness. Why didn’t the know-it all ask Ryou if he was so concerned anyway? He couldn’t help but wonder why it even bothered him, it wasn’t like they were friends or anything.

He looked towards the boy, who was now slouched informally against the chair he was on, almost asleep, as if whatever was on his mind kept him up the night before. 

Bloody kid was going to fall out of his chair if he stayed like that any longer. 

Bakura cursed to himself and immediately visited the cake cabinet. Rows of treats and savouries lined the three levels, each freshly made by a nearby supplier. He chose a cream puff with a tong and placed it on a plate before dousing the side with more whipped cream and berry sauce. This should do the trick, he thought. Not that he cared, only because Ryou’s glum aura was seriously bumming him out. 

He didn’t know whether Ryou liked cream puffs, but it was worth the shot. No one he had ever served turned down a free pastry (then again he had never served a freebie before).

He took the coffee and sweet towards Ryou, placing it down onto the table with a clink. 

Ryou instantly looked alive, sitting up straight, surprised at the additional plate with his order. “I didn’t?”

Bakura furrowed his brow. “Just take it. You looked tired so I thought the extra sugar would help.”

A small smile tugged at Ryou’s lips. He already looked better than he did moments ago. Who knew Ryou would be entranced with a piece of pastry.

“Thank you.”

Bakura refused to acknowledge the heat upon his face and simply grunted in response, turning back towards the counter to clean down his station. 

From the machine, he could see Ryou delicately use his fork to pull pieces from the puff, dipping it into cream and berry sauce before eating it down. He barely took his eyes off the table but within minutes the puff was fully gone.

Bakura had been cleaning the milk wand for over 5 minutes at this point, having been watching Ryou as if he were a bird ready to fly away. He hated how the feeling of concern resided in his gut. He cursed Malik for making him more attentive to Ryou’s behaviour, he was sure he could have finished his shift without giving a damn. 

-OoO-

Half an hour went by. No one has entered since Ryou’s arrival. There was nothing to take Bakura’s mind off of Ryou’s frightfully still body in the corner. Stripped of distraction and chores, Bakura balled up his dishcloth and undid his apron. He tossed it on a spare chair that sat behind the counter, and made his way to Ryou’s lonely table. 

He sat down, alerting Ryou to immediately straighten (again). The other looked surprised, and no doubt Bakura was feeling it too.

“You haven’t touched it.” Bakura indicated toward the now semi-warm beverage placed in front of Ryou. “I don’t do refunds.”

Ryou shook his head, quickly taking the mug into his hands and pulling it up to take a sip. “Sorry, I forgot.”

Bakura folded his arms, kicking his legs out straight beneath the table. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Ryou lowered his cup and traced his thumb along the handle of it. “I’m fine.”

Bakura was sick of hearing that but he knew he had to bring it down a notch. He was, after all, still on the clock. 

“Yeah,” he groused. “And welcome to my dream job.” 

Ryou looked pointedly at the table, less comfortable but more aware that Bakura wasn’t going to back down. He was caught out, there was no use playing pretend. 

“I heard some bad news, that’s all.” He took yet another sip. It was cold enough to down it in one go if he wanted to.

“Hm,” Bakura hummed, leaving a pause before continuing. “Whatever it is, is it out of your control?” 

Ryou nodded his head, unsure where Bakura was going with this.

Bakura shrugged his shoulders. “Then what can you do? Bad things happen even when you don’t want them to.”

If it were any other day, Ryou would have told Bakura to show a little more empathy. He couldn’t bring himself to scold at that moment.

“My mothers sick, Bakura. She’s been for a while, but now we’re sure she’s not going to make it for very long.” His voice croaked on his last word, eyes prickling with evident tears. “I mean, I’ve expected this for a long time now. It’s just scary to think about it.”

Bakura cringed, embarrassed. He did not expect it to be that serious. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t...”

“It’s fine. Bad things happen even when you don’t want them to,” he parroted, looking down into his mug. The coffee along the edges had dried and became sticky. “I didn’t want to come in here and cause a scene. I just really like it here.”

Bakura balked. “You like it?”

The other looked relieved to be talking about something else. “Yeah, I like the plants.” Ryou looked around the place to make sure it was what he was really thinking. “Who waters them?”

It was a random question, one that Bakura didn’t mind at all. Though he fully didn’t believe that was what Ryou cared to know. 

“Whomever opens. Usually that’s Malik and myself.” 

“So do you own the place?”

“No.” Bakura raised a brow. “Is that what you really think?”

Ryou chuckled and shook his head. “I suppose not. I think if you owned this place there would be more black and open less often.” 

“Precisely, and you wouldn’t see a trace of me in store.” 

“I guess it’s good you don’t own it.”

It almost seemed like Ryou was flirting with him. At least that’s what he thought was going on, with the way Ryou was stroking the handle of his mug and tucking his hair behind his ear. 

“I take it you’re not working today?” Bakura said, bringing his arms into a fold. Not that he wanted to get comfortable, but he wasn’t going to be moving for a while. 

Ryou shook his head, taking his cup to his lips to drink the morsel that was left. “I’ve got the next two days off.”

“What will you do?” Bakura prompted, throwing caution in the wind. He was curious afterall. For the longest time he had seen Ryou be on his game, always dedicated to his work that he wondered what he did in his time off. 

“Maybe I’ll see some friends.” Ryou murmured thoughtfully. “Actually I might see my mother.”

The way Ryou said that was quiet, but Bakura heard. 

“Where is she right now?” Bakura asked carefully.

“Domino hospital. She’s been in there for so long, all I want is to bring her outside for some fresh air.” Ryou sighed, waving his hand in front of his face, dismissing his imagination. 

Bakura opened his mouth partly, sitting up and leaning his forearms onto the table, looking straight at Ryou. “You should.”

Ryou looked right back at Bakura. “I don’t know, the hospital probably wouldn’t let me.” He worried his bottom lip with his teeth, a deep thought on his face. “I couldn’t do it by myself.”

The setup was perfect. All Bakura had to do was instigate the idea that maybe he could go with him. Time was fleeting, he need not hesitate. His mouth opened again, the warm sensation of blood returning to his face. What was he doing?

“I could.”

Ryou’s eyes looked a bit wider. He leaned forward, inviting to the proposition.

“You would take my mother?”

Bakura backtracked immediately. “Not without you, idiot. You’d be there. I only meant that I would accompany you so you weren’t alone. You didn’t want to do it alone, right?” The words were rushed and accusatory, but the meaning was sincere.

There was a wash of silence, then Ryou started giggling, the back of his hand covering the noises that wanted to pass his mouth. It was sort of cute, if it weren’t making fun of Bakura. 

Bakura avoided eye contact, deadpanned as he stared out the window at the sparse group of people that walked by. What he would give to walk out that door and pretend he never offered. 

After a few apologies from Ryou once he dampened his giggles, Bakura chanced a look in the boy's direction, the moment moving on.

“You’re fine, then?” he inquired, his fist meeting his chin as he leaned. “I do hate feeling sorry for you.”

Ryou rolled his eyes. “Well then, it wasn’t like I asked you to, you know. What am I supposed to do about it?” 

There was a small bite in his tone, and understandably so. Bakura wasn’t chummy to just anyone. He knew he went and screwed it up, yet somehow Ryou looked expectant for an answer.

“You could keep smiling like you were before…” he muttered. Gods, he sounded stupid. Of all the things he could have said, that was the next big thing. 

Ryou cracked an amused smile, looking pleased to have made a difference to Bakura’s tone. “Better?”

When Bakura looked up, he didn’t expect the thud in his chest. It came out of nowhere. It could have been guilt, though something told Bakura it had to do with Ryou’s goofy smile and shiny brown eyes.

“Yeah, I can live with that.”

Ryou chuckled again, gesturing to the empty plate. “This was delicious by the way. Thank you.”

The plate was pristine, polished down to the last crumb. Not even the whipped cream stood a chance.

“Don’t mention it, it was going to go bad anyway.” Bakura caught his breath then took to a stand, taking the empty plate. He needed to step away, and quickly. 

Ryou kept smiling as he looked up, fondness in his eyes. “Sure.” 

Bakura walked off with the plate, refusing to acknowledge the heat on his face. Once he was behind the counter, he almost smacked face to face with Malik, who’d been standing by the door watching.

There was never a moment of peace.

“So?” Malik asked, while Bakura finished his muttering about how Malik needed to keep his distance. 

“So what?” Bakura played ignorance, rinsing the plate Ryou used and putting it in the dishwasher for later. 

“Is he okay?”

There was a glint of pesterance in Malik’s eyes, Bakura could see it from the corner of his own. He grunted, giving him no satisfaction with his response.

“He’s fine.”

Malik looked towards Ryou. The boy was still looking in their direction so Malik waved at him, but that only made Ryou duck his head, as if getting caught staring was rude. 

“What did he say?” Malik asked, lowering his hand.

Bakura groaned, fed up he was still being asked. He knew he wasn’t talking to Malik about this. He still didn’t even know how to process it himself. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“I’m not his boyfriend.”

“Neither am I, so beat it.”

Malik grinned, unperturbed by Bakura’s nastiness. 

“I’m sure no one wants to beat it as much as you do,” he chorused, but it fell on deaf ears. Bakura was already meters away. 

-OoO-

Ryou didn’t stay much longer. He left minutes since Bakura talked to him, hands in his hoodie. Bakura felt selfish, disappointed that he wouldn’t get to see him until the end of the day. 

But things happen even when you don’t want them to.

Malik finished stacking the chairs up for the cleaners to deep clean the floors. The clack of plastic on metal drowned out with the drone of music. Once a week they had to clear the floors for a thorough scrub. Good thing too, Bakura knew the corners didn’t get dusted often enough.

Bakura flushed the industrial coffee machine from the inside out. He started with a chemical, pure as white on the extractor head, flushing with hot water. The cloth he used was gritty with coffee grind and oil so he threw it to the dirty pile for washing.

After everyday he would return home smelling like roasted coffee grounds because sometimes the sodden machine spat the worst of itself directly at him. But it wasn’t the worst way to smell. He wondered what did Ryou smell like everyday. He worked a cushy office job, surely he would smell nice. Of cologne, maybe? 

“Can you leave through the back door? I have somewhere to be tonight so I got to go,” Malik said suddenly after a while of no talking.

The machine spluttered when Bakura turned it off. He took his time to answer, his mind fog clearing in time.

“Where are you going?”

“A date.”

“Who’s the unfortunate bastard?”

Malik scoffed, undoing his hair that had been up all day, letting it fall messily around his face. “Don’t you mean the luckiest bastard.” He sighed as he massaged his scalp. “I’ll tell you about it after it happens.”

Bakura opened the dishwasher and started putting the utensils and cups away. He wanted to end his day just as quickly. 

“Whatever, I don’t care.”

“Thanks, Bakura! I’ll leave through the front,” Malik sang, looking too eager to skip out and leave the grouch on his own. “Don’t forget to turn on the alarm!”

Malik bent down and grabbed his phone, keys and jacket from the cubby hole under the register. 

Bakura gingerly threw a butter knife into a storage box, letting it clank loudly. There was no way stopping Malik from dipping out. 

“You owe me time,” Bakura said.

Malik walked backwards, smirking. “I hear you. Bye Bakura.”

The chime of the door signalled that Malik had left, leaving Bakura to finish the last minute duties on his own. His boss was due to arrive later to deal with the bank statements, and he wasn’t keen on staying long enough to chat with him.

He turned up the radio, making a note to himself he needed to lock the front doors. Just as he thought about it, the door in the front suddenly chimed again. With a sigh, Bakura looked up. 

“What did you forget, huh?” he said, loud and gruff. He expected to see Malik but instead he was greeted with Ryou looking a bit startled. 

Bakura shook his head. “Sorry, I thought you were Malik. What are you doing here?”

Ryou slowly approached the counter. He wrung his hands in his hoodie, a bit puffed in breath. Did he run over? “Um… Is it just you here?”

His interest peaked. It was odd to see Ryou during this time of day, doing anything besides working and drinking his heart attack caffeine. He couldn’t deny that he was relieved to see him again. Bakura stepped from the cutlery box and rested his hip against the counter, watching Ryou skittishly tap his foot. 

“Yeah.”

Ryou floundered before settling his hands straight against his side. “I wanted to say thank you.”

Bakura stayed quiet, looking at the other curiously. They had made it clear they were going to see one another again, so what was so important that he couldn’t wait? 

“I haven’t really told anyone about my mother,” he continued.” I mean, you were being a dick but I still felt better talking to you, you know?”

Bakura licked his lips, subconsciously agreeing that he may have been acting like a dick. “You’re welcome, I guess. Is that all?”

“No. Am I not being obvious enough here?” There was red forming on the boy's face, looking suspiciously like a blush. 

Bakura blinked. Obvious how?

“Your coffee is mediocre, at best.” Ryou looked to the donations box on the counter, anywhere that wasn’t Bakura. “And I think the plants are fine. The wifi really, really sucks though.”

Bakura continued his silent route. He wanted to see what other truths would come spewing out of Ryou’s mouth. What was on his mind, and did he share the same feeling?

“What I’m saying is… this shop isn’t why I come back.” Ryou looked up, the blush almost covering his whole face. Perhaps it was mostly the embarrassment of confessing that was getting to him.

Confessing.

Bakura hadn’t heard a confession in a long time. The fact that Ryou was the one confessing here altered his expectations. Had the attraction been strong both ways? It really wasn’t only him that had been sitting (or rather standing) from the other side of the room, thinking about possibilities. 

Ryou pulled his hoodie sleeves back over his hands again, squeezing them so tight. 

“Bakura?”

Bakura kept his cool, unable to tear his sight from Ryou’s nervous smile. 

“Are you asking me out?” he finally murmured.

Ryou let out a slight laugh, as he normally did when under pressure. “Yes.”

Finally, Bakura tore his gaze away and blinked. He felt really unprepared, but he wanted it more than anything.

“Okay.” (He couldn’t look desperate).

Ryou let out a large sigh, his shoulders visibly untensing. “Okay?”

“Where and when?” (Don’t look desperate).

“Um...” 

Bakura smirked, taking his pen and a napkin from the caddy, hand white from how hard he gripped the pen grasp. “This is my number for when you decide, but I’ll have you know, I am free in 10 minutes.” (Gods, he did look desperate).

Ryou peered at the phone number as Bakura wrote. “I am also free in 10 minutes…”

When Bakura looked up, his eyes locked with Ryou’s. Was brown really that boring of a colour? 

“Alright, I won’t be long.” He slid the napkin towards Ryou. 

Ryou took it, smoothing the edges with his thumb, un-moving from his spot. “Do you want some help?” 

Bakura unlocked the register, ready to take the money out back for his boss. Distraction was key for an over dramatic heartbeat. “You can lock the front. Make sure the top and bottom bolts are secure. Flip the sign too while you’re at it.” 

Looking happy to help, Ryou headed to the doors, the napkin getting folded gently into his pocket. Bakura watched him momentarily before bringing himself back into action. He took the til from the machine along with the eftpos, carrying it to the back office to leave in the safe. 

As soon as he was behind doors, he unloaded the bulk in his arms onto the desk and took a moment to massage his face in his hands. Malik was going to give him hell for the next few weeks. He really didn’t want to blow this. If Ryou walked out of this shop all because of his asshole tendencies, then there wouldn’t be much to look forward to during the day. 

Has he really become that soft for Ryou’s company?

Bakura opened the safe and haphazardly tucked the cash away, eftpos close behind. Once he locked it, along with the office door, he took a quick glance to see if Ryou was still there.

Clear as day, the boy was there, tapping his feet along the floor, shoulders moving in a rhythm. At first, Bakura wasn’t sure what he was doing. Then it hit him. The guy was dancing.

It was a half arsed dance, but nonetheless it was a dance. For some reason, Bakura didn’t think Ryou to be the dancing type. It really showed that Bakura still had a lot to learn about him. That is, if he could keep the guy around. 

Bakura walked silently to his post by the counter, watching Ryou.

Suddenly Ryou turned around, halting his idle bop, shyly scratching his cheek. “This song’s good.” 

Bakura had heard the song on repeat for so long (due to the cafe’s playlist), he had to tune his ear to what was playing. 

“I hate it actually,” he said smoothly, but it didn’t stop Ryou from approaching and taking him by the hands. Bakura’s heart beat kicked into speed at suddenly being touched. His eyes widened, looking at Ryou with a questioning gaze. “What are you doing?”

Ryou gave him a tug, pulling Bakura from his feet and making him stumble forward onto the empty cafe floor. His work sneakers squeaked in resistance against the wooden floors.

“Oh hush, this is a good song.” Ryou smiled and swung Bakura’s hands with his own. 

Bakura’s arms were a dead weight, but he was captivated by the boy's confidence to get him to do something. 

“Try hearing it in the same playlist for 8 hours a day,” Bakura said, his feet standing heavy, sure in his ways that he did not dance. 

Ryou slowed down, letting his arms stop moving so they were only holding hands. Bakura could see the faint pigment of freckles on his pale nose, suddenly stark due to his blush. That was something he hadn’t noticed. After all, they had never stood this close before. 

“What do you do outside of work?” Bakura found himself asking. His hands felt comfortable in Ryou’s. They were soft and warm compared to his dry skin, rough from the chemicals of working.

Ryou looked embarrassed again. “Promise you won’t laugh.”

“Scout’s honour.”

“Well,” he started slowly. “I prepare campaigns for DnD sessions, and I sculpt a lot when I’m not writing columns.”

Bakura could believe that. He had seen the nerdy accessories hanging from Ryou’s work bag. 

“So you’re creative.” 

“A bit,” Ryou replied sheepishly. “What about you? I take it you don’t stand around looking angry all day.” 

Bakura held in his frown, and instead exhaled an amused chuckle. He wasn’t sure where to start. “I collect things, stay out late on the weekend. Normal things.”

The answer couldn’t have been anymore vague, but Ryou looked interested despite it. “Collect?”

“Old knives.” 

“Normal things,” Ryou quoted with an airy tone.

Bakura smirked. “At least I don’t play pretend.”

Ryou narrowed his eyes in scrutiny before laughing. Bakura could feel it through their tangled hands, could see the rise and fall of Ryou’s shoulders when he laughed. When he slowed his chuckle, he sighed, pulling his hands away. The absence of each other's warmth was sorely missed by both.

The radio changed track, a relaxed song. 

Bakura saw Ryou had used every ounce of his energy in trying to keep the conversation going, he supposed he was going to have to try now. 

“This song isn’t that bad,” he said, his hand reaching out to Ryou’s arm. He took it and guided his hand back into his again. “What were you doing with your feet before?”

Ryou looked shocked into silence, so Bakura prompted him with a curt jolt of his hand. 

“What were you doing, Ryou?” 

The redness on Ryou’s face returned. “Uhh, dancing? I don’t know, I picked up the habit when looking after my little sister.”

“Yeah, I can tell you don’t know,” teased Bakura, the smirk ever present on his face. So he had a sister...

“Oh shut up,” Ryou huffed. “I know more than you! I’ll show you.”

Bakura stiffened, thinking that bringing it up would make Ryou dance again, not him.

“No.”

“Come on.” Ryou took Bakura’s other hand and pulled him closer. They were so close to one another that both of them turned a dark shade of red. Both of them quickly looked away from another, the air getting awkward. 

Finally, Bakura broke the silence. “Tch, this is stupid, I don’t dance.”

Ryou shook his head, regaining his momentum. “It’s a lot of fun when you don’t think you’re dancing.” He then urged Bakura to the left, leaving him no choice but to follow Ryou’s lead. 

“What the hell are you making me do,” groaned Bakura, entertained but uncomfortable. “I don’t-”

“Dance?” Ryou cut in.

“No shit, it’s as if I told you that.” 

“Just for a bit, you might find it fun.” 

Ryou had a way of convincing. It might have something to do with his persistence, or Bakura’s sudden lack of resilience. Either way, Ryou won this round.

“Fine, but only for a bit. I want to get out of here.” Bakura hesitated with his hand before placing it against the lower part of Ryou’s back. 

Ryou smiled, relaxing until his chin was lightly pressed against Bakura’s shoulder. 

It was a very intimate gesture, and it surprised Bakura by how quick it had escalated. But they had shared a strong gaze for a while already, this was a longing that was going to happen eventually.

The opportunity came again so perfectly. He bent close so he could smell the side of Ryou’s head. There was a strong scent of peach in Ryou’s hair, a fitting smell for someone like him. It then occurred to Bakura that he must have smelt like caffeine and sweat. It couldn’t have been very pleasant, but Ryou didn’t seem to mind. 

Ryou’s head had tilted, his breath on Bakura’s neck. The skin prickled on that one spot. 

It became easier to relax, and Bakura soon had two arms around Ryou. Holding him made him forget that he was even dancing. If he could call it that. Both of them stopped moving and were swaying to the drone of the cafe’s music. 

It was soft; forgiving. 

Or was that Ryou?

A pair of arms wormed their way around his waist, Ryou’s grip tightening around his shirt. The brush of his skin caused a jolt of warmth in him. A thought occurred. What was it about him that Ryou wanted to know?

Bakura squeezed his eyes tight before sighing, letting the other go long enough for him to step back. Ryou looked too at ease, a drowsy smile on his face. In a moment he forgot he had duties to finish. His boss could come at any time and then he would have some explaining to do about having an outsider in store after hours. 

“Was that bad?”

Bakura chuckled, smirking humorously. “No. No it wasn’t.” He hadn’t lied, it wasn’t the most awful experience he ever had. “Don’t breathe this to a soul or I’ll come for you in your sleep.”

Ryou fixed the crinkled fabric of Bakura’s shirt, grinning wide. The threat didn’t hold any weight. “I promise. I wouldn't want to ruin your reputation.”

The gesture made Bakura’s heart thud strangely. He coughed into his fist, all of a sudden weird in his own skin. How did Ryou single handedly have this power against him? It surely was making him ill.

Suddenly he felt Ryou nearing his face, a pair of lips kissing the tender side of his cheek. Bakura immediately raised his fingers to the absence of heat, staring at Ryou who had turned five different tones of red. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise.” Bakura leaned close enough to kiss the top of Ryou’s head, the boy sighing as if he had been holding his breath.

He wasn’t sure what overcame him to kiss Ryou’s head. It was beyond his explanation. It felt right. There was still so much to learn about him, to share with him. He found himself excited at the prospect of getting to know him; of taking it slow.

Ryou smiled. “Time to go?”

After Bakura set the alarm, he and Ryou headed outside. They didn’t even notice the steady green light of the cameras watching them from behind.

-OoO-

The next morning came, already proving to be a weird one. Bakura showed up 15 minutes later than his clock-in time should have been. He skipped breakfast knowing he could help himself at work. The night before played in a loop within his mind; Ryou looped in his mind. The commute to work went by in a blur, it wasn’t long enough to recount the events.

Reaching the back door, Bakura kicked an upside down bin to the side so he could unlock it. He usually sat there during his break for a breather. When he got inside, he pocketed his key, closing the door with a click. 

He stood still for a moment. The cafe floor wasn’t going to feel the same for a long while. 

His cheek still tingled where Ryou kissed, and he kept touching the spot delicately as if it burned. He wondered what the other was doing. He guessed he would have been fast asleep. 6am too early for a day off. 

The night before, Bakura took Ryou to a quiet bar where they spent some time talking. They shared stories from work and life, Ryou telling him about his sister and the kind of dances she made him practice with her. They had a drink each between them, then Bakura shared stories of the prank wars he and Malik did during hours. 

He could see Ryou’s face laughing at the prank Bakura shared where he wrapped the tap head with plastic wrap. 

Gods, Bakura wanted to see him again.

Before Bakura made another move, his phone vibrated within his jacket. He took it out, the screen a bit too bright for his eyes. He narrowed them so he could see the text better. 

Unknown Sender

Hope you slept well :)

Sent 6:18AM

Bakura exhaled loudly. He quickly saved the number under Ryou’s name, responding with the bleakest of good mornings.

Most of the back lights were on, he noticed, once he raised his head to the present. This meant Malik had already arrived. Most days the ash blond would have made himself the very first coffee of the day, sitting at a table eating before he started his shift. 

When he looked out to the shop floor, it was empty and the lights were still out. The chairs were placed back where they normally resided, the cleaners having put them back after their shift. There was no sign of Malik. 

A bark of laughter came from the office. It wasn’t the usual laughter, it was troublesome and made Bakura’s skin crawl. There was something going on.

Bakura rushed to the office to see Malik in front of the security camera monitor, laughing up a storm. 

“Malik? What are you--?” 

Then he saw it.

It couldn’t have been. 

It shouldn’t be.

Bakura brought both hands to his head and clenched his hair. On the screen was an obvious clip from the day before. A very intimate scene between himself and Ryou. 

Malik turned around, a devilish smirk ever present. “Oh Bakura, you bad boy.”

“Gods, shut up.” Bakura growled. “Mind your own fucking business for once!”

“This made my day! You have no idea how long I’ve called this.” 

“Get. The hell. Out of here!”

“Why should I? Trust me, I’m doing you a favour.”

Bakura helplessly watched as Malik linked a few wires from the monitor onto the laptop upon the desk. Eventually the tape had been ripped into CD form and erased from the file. 

“Let’s not say a word to the Boss man, okay?” Malik spun in the chair and held the CD towards Bakura. “I could get in trouble for tampering with the records.” 

Bakura narrowed his eyes, taking the CD into his own hands. Malik was off the hook this time. Something told him Ryou would enjoy this. Until then, it was going straight into the archives for no one to see. 

“So Bakura,” started Malik, smugly leaning against the desk. “Do you foxtrot, or waltz?”

Malik was not off the hook, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Uwaaaaah, my first fic since forever ago! Thank you to my friends who encouraged me to keep writing, I’m insanely proud of finishing. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it!


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